Chapter 22

Unit-00 was not ready, but it would have to do for now.

Most of its armor was still missing so that it appeared as a huge, rather skinny naked human as it was secured to the cage by means of an improvised restraining system. Only the helmet, in its bare orange primer with its single red eye, was in place. But it wasn't exactly human in shape; its body was a patchwork of components, some cloned, some regenerated, and some, like the spinal cord and head, were actually spare parts of older failed models kept in the depths of the facility.

It was truly a modern Frankenstein's monster. The skin was several tones of brown and gray, depending on the origin of that particular component, covering lean muscles that were slightly off in comparison to human proportions—the arms were long and the torso much too narrow.

Even its core, protruding as a dark red sphere from Unit-00's chest, had to be scrounged together since Central Dogma did not possess the ability to make them from scratch. But the core contents itself could only be transferred, not copied or duplicated. Thankfully, the pilot's singular origin allowed some leeway in that respect.

Unlike other pilots, Rei was not intrinsically linked to a specific core. The normal relationships between pilot and Eva did not apply to her, and the nature of the link between her and Unit-00 was not the same as anyone else. Earlier cross-synchronization experiments had already determined her limited ability to pilot Unit-01. As she should be, all things considered.

Leaning her elbows against the safety railing, Ritsuko looked down at the armor-less Evangelion with contempt. She had a hand pressed against the side of her face, a careworn expression on her features. She had been standing there for a while, thinking how much she hated it.

The irony was not lost on her; it was, after all, her life's work. At least her mother could say that MAGI had reflected who she was as woman, a mother, and a scientist. Ritsuko did not share that kind of connection with any of the Evas. They were not a part of her. She had come to loathe them. And Unit-00 was the most loathsome of the group.

It wasn't really the first anymore, so calling it the prototype would not be an accurate identification. Technically, it was the last. But Ritsuko hated it as she had its predecessor, probably because of who was its pilot. And even that did not represent any kind of continuity, since Rei Ayanami, like her Eva, was basically a thing only recently created. But the pilot she was meant to replace, and the woman whose genes she shared were gone, and they were never coming back.

Ritsuko had told Rei that she hated what she represented, but that was an odd way of putting it. It implied a distinction between who and what she was.

As far as Ritsuko was concerned, it was a ridiculous idea. She should have just told her how she felt about her. Rei wouldn't care and it would have made her feel better.

"A penny for your thoughts, doctor."

Ritsuko recognized his voice at once, and turned her head to see Sub-Commander Fuyutsuki standing there, his hands in his pockets. He looked fatherly, as he always did, an interested expression carved on his heavily-lined features.

"Nothing important," Ritsuko said, trying her best to smile.

"Worried about the activation?" Fuyutsuki said, his gaze wandering over to Unit-00. "I see they have locked it down already."

Ritsuko straightened, taking her elbows off the metal railing. "There are so many things that can go wrong," she said. "I would feel better if we waited until the dummy was complete, but, alas, we don't always get what we want. Experimenting with the Tablet doesn't help, I suppose."

"Rei should be able to handle it," he said.

"Theoretically," Ritsuko corrected. "With all the modification she should be able to handle it. I have already prepared a synthesized version for Unit-02, but there's no telling what will happen for sure. Giving Unit-00 test priority makes sense, since at least Rei can synch with it."

Fuyutsuki picked up on her dark tone right away. "But you don't think it's wise?"

"What I think doesn't matter," Ritsuko said, turning back to look at Unit-00.

"Lieutenant Ibuki did a good job, didn't she?" Fuyutsuki said.

Even if he didn't say it, Ritsuko was aware that a compliment on the student was also a compliment on the teacher—on her. But she didn't feel complimented. Oddly, she felt like she wanted to be back in her cell. At least then she wouldn't feel forced to look at this thing anymore.

"Indeed she did."

...

"Financially speaking, this city is a like a black hole: it sucks every yen that comes within a lightyear." Junichi Nakayima said, as he tried to mask his disgust from the Tokyo-3 Council. "The Japanese Government and the MOI do not mind this fact, but some heads are beginning to turn in this direction. That is not a good thing, gentlemen."

This was the part of the job that he really hated. He had spent most of his life as a soldier, not a politician, and despite what Kluge said, making that change was not easy. A soldier always knew who the enemy was, a politician thought everyone was the enemy and consequently turned into the scum that soldiers were then sent to destroy.

It made Nakayima sick that he had to play the political role just to keep his cover.

"You are right, Nakayima-san. That is not good." Yamamoto Hibiki, chairman of the Council said. "But I'm sure that your are aware of the magnitude of this operation. Money is needed in vast amounts."

"That is all acceptable. What isn't is the fact that the funds were made available to you six weeks ago and we have yet to see any progress." Nakayima cast a glance at the other members of the council. They were all old men, which reminded him of the old Politburo he had read had ruled Russia in the middle and late twentieth century.

"When working in the field you can not guide yourself by any schedule," the chairman replied. "As a former military officer, you can surely understand that. The engineering required—it isn't like building a model airplane."

"As a former military officer I also understand that excuses are the last resort of a cornered ally," Nakayima said, bluntly. So much for politics, he thought. "And I also understand that objectives are measured by their inherent usefulness. There isn't a lot of that coming out of Tokyo-3 these days."

"Nakayima-san." Chairman Hibiki said as he rose to his feet. "This council is fighting a war on two fronts: The Ministry on one side and NERV on the other. We have to go about this in a way that will please both, because your organization has failed to get rid of NERV like you promised. At least the UN knew how to stay out of our business, which is more useful than the incessant oversight of government."

Nakayima tilted his head provocatively. "Are you saying this is our fault?"

"No," the chairman said, shaking his head. "I'm saying that, for us to work more efficiently, one of these two fronts most be eliminated: either you scratch NERV, or the Ministry gets off our backs."

"Neither is possible at this moment." Nakayima said. He would have loved to simply shoot the chairman and end the argument. "We can not get rid of NERV, and we are the civilian authority so we are not going anywhere either. The taxpayers have a right to know what their money is being spent on."

"Then your complaints, while duly noted, simply add to the uselessness. We can not be hounded like this, regardless of what your boss says. He is not an economist, after all."

The gathered men nodded and whispered their agreement. Nakayima had been told to expect this reaction, but even without being prepared for it he would have found it fairly predictable of people interested in keeping only their power.

"I was not assigned to be a burden," he told the council with fake pleasantry, "simply to remind you of our finite resources and the need for some returns on this investment."

"Then you should let us do our jobs," another of the council members said. "That is our duty after all. And you should stop implying what everyone in this room is certain you are implying, Agent Nakayima."

Nakayima bit his lip to keep from making the reply he wanted to make. This councilman was much younger than the rest, which probably accounted for his tactlessness.

And he must still be twenty years older than me, Nakayima thought.

What the hell was he doing with his life?

His father had once asked him the same question, when a 17-year-old Junichi Nakayima had told him he'd lied about his age to join the military. Up until that point the idea had been for him to follow on his father's footsteps and become a politician. It was what the entire family wanted from him; the future they had chosen for him.

He joined the military to spite them—there was honor in fighting for something instead of lying for a living. His father had threatened to disown him, but he didn't care. All his life he'd felt alienated, now he would be free. When he shipped out there had been no one there to bid him farewell. It hadn't bothered him.

Fake sincerity was worse than no sincerity. It was just more lies. Exactly the sort of thing he was trying to do now. It seemed his life had come full circle despite his best attempts.

"Gentlemen," another of the assembled men spoke up. "I am sure it is better for everyone involved to get along here. Instead of trying to trip each other up at every turn, we should focus on our common goals—that is the reconstruction of the city we have been entrusted with."

"Very much so," Nakayima said, reminding himself that he didn't have to like what he was doing. "We have to trust that each of us here has the best interest of the city at heart. It's the only way anything good will come out of this situation."

He just had to follow orders. Some orders were just harder than others.

Nearly an hour later the meeting finally adjured. Slowly, the councilmen left the room as deliberately as men who were not used to being rushed were inclined to do. More than one of the them gave Nakayima suspicious stare, though lacking any real resentment.

The conference room empty, Nakayima dropped into one of the chairs. His sore body complained as he leaned back and closed his eyes.

He was ready to go home. Hopefully, to get some sleep after another night spent trying to hack through NERV's servers. Even after months, it was still impossible. The security was simply too tight. But for the most part all he had to worry about was boredom so it was a rather cushy part of his job. Then, several nights ago, things had almost gone really wrong.

Nakyima had not been aware that there was anyone in the room with him until he heard the footsteps on the ladder, and then on the desk. He had set himself up in a corner between two server towers, mostly because it would help conserve body heat and because the servers themselves ran hot. Quietly but quickly, he pressed his back against the wall and reached into his uniform jacket for his gun, hoping against hope that he wouldn't be forced to use it.

He did not want to kill anyone. Not ever again.

When the footsteps began to fade, he scooted forward and peered around the server hiding him from view, catching a glimpse of a red jacket. He knew who she was instantly—he had seen the jacket earlier in the day.

Misato Katsuragi.

None of the questions that arose from that meeting made sense to Nakayima so he had pushed them into the back of his mind, along with everything else he tried to keep from thinking about. It was getting rather crowded back there recently.

Nakayima opened his eyes again and looked around the room. It was all so very pointless, but he had no excuse not to try anymore, and his boss was not known for his patience. Results were all that mattered. Results that, by now, he was sure he could not deliver.